


Sleep Tight

by skca54



Category: Kick-Ass (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skca54/pseuds/skca54
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As one life chapter comes to an end another begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beginning

"Sleep Tight," I whispered to my Daddy.

I woke up with a violent start from the dream, but no, it wasn’t a dream; it was a nightmare.

Everything was dark and I had no idea where I was. I had no memory of anything recent, let alone where I was and why.

I felt hot and sweaty. My heart was beating very fast and I felt the onset of panic. I sat up, or at least tried to; my body hurt so much that it would not move. Everything hurt and I whimpered at the pain.

_I whimpered_! I  _did not_  whimper! What was going on? Where was I?


	2. Memories

I woke up again.

I remembered the pain; it must have made me pass out. I opened my eyes slowly and I turned my head to look about me. This time I could just make out my immediate surroundings as there was a little light coming through the curtains.  _My_  curtains. With a sudden shock, I realised that I was in  _my_  room, on  _my_  bed. At least I now knew the  _where_ , but next I needed to find the  _why_.

I raised my head up, with some difficulty as my head was still very sore, and I looked down at myself. I was wearing my Hit Girl costume, at least most of it. My gloves were off, my top was unzipped - I still had my Kevlar vest on – but no mask or wig either. I wiggled my toes...

"Where the fuck are my boots and socks?" I whispered to myself in consternation.

I looked down to the floor and I saw my boots, socks, gloves, utility belt, cape and a harness...  _A harness_? They were all dumped in a pile. I couldn't remember  _how_  I got to my bed or  _why_  I had even been in my costume. I really didn't like not knowing what was going on.

I  _never_  slept in my costume and Daddy would  _never_  let me go to bed in it. Why had he this time? I moved slightly on the bed and pain shot across my back. An intense pain that was followed by the same pain in my chest. I cried out with the pain, but nobody came! Daddy always came when I was in pain.

* * *

 

Wham!

It hit me like a speeding train.

I heard my own voice in my mind:  _‘You are the kindest Daddy in the world. I love you too, Daddy. I love you too, Daddy. Sleep tight.’_

I felt an intense sadness sweep over me and a sudden realisation.

_My Daddy was dead._

I sat bolt upright. Pain shot through my chest, my back and my head. I whimpered at the pain. I was disgusted with myself - I  _whimpered_!  _Hit Girl did not whimper_! I fought through the pain and used it to my advantage; channelled it at my targets.  _I did not whimper!_

My memory was still blank as to how I got here and why my Daddy was dead. I had nobody else and an intense feeling of loneliness hit me. I couldn't think straight. I tried to think till my head started to hurt even more and I started to see images flashing through my mind. 

_Strange images!_

Safehouse B... Red guy... Muzzle flashes... Falling... Blackness...

A dark warehouse... Men dying at  _my_  hand... Green guy?

A marble lobby... More dead men... A corridor... More dead men...

Bazooka!?

That green guy again... A flying green guy! Gatling guns!  _I was fucking losing it! This had to be a nightmare!_

More physical pain than I had ever felt before... A big man punching me... The bazooka again! Green guy!

Flying? A beautiful sunrise... A name... Dave... Who was Dave?

Then nothing else.

I must have been on something that night! Those were just some  _crazy_ , impossible, thoughts! I couldn't make any sense from them. But they were, at this point, all I had. I lay back slowly to allow the pain to ease. I was breathing heavily and struggled to get my breathing under control. My mind was in overload... I didn't know what to do.


	3. Dave

The pain had eased, partially anyway.

I couldn't get the green guy out of my head; he seemed important to all of this. He was the one thing that kept cropping up in my recent memories.

However, much more importantly, I needed to use the bathroom, and soon. I slid gently, cringing with pain, off of my bed and stood up, swaying slightly as I got my balance. I opened my bedroom door and shuffled straight to the bathroom. Once there, I looked in the mirror; not a nice sight, not to mention that more fucking questions arose!

Why did I have pig tails? Even more concerning: Why did I have pug tails while dressed as Hit Girl? I had dried blood around my mouth and nose; I must have been hit, hard. My chest felt bruised to fuck, as did my back. I dreaded to think what they actually looked like. My head was very sore and pounding, plus I had three, neat round holes in my top. They explained the bruises on my chest, at least! My mouth and throat were dry as sawdust, so I grabbed some painkillers from the cabinet and washed them down with water from the sink. I downed another glass of water for good measure.

Once I had finished making use of the bathroom, I shuffled towards the kitchen. Just doing a simple thing like using the bathroom was painful! I almost didn't bother to pull my pants back up, due to the pain of doing it. I saw green in my peripheral vision and I whirled around. There was a green guy looking at me. He was standing by my Daddy's workbench. Although this time he had a face, instead of a mask and he was smiling at me.  _Glad I kept my pants on; that could have been embarrassing!_

My mind automatically went into high gear.

Who was he? Why was he in the Safehouse? More importantly, why was I not attacking him? Two reasons came to mind: At the moment I couldn't fight _anything_ and also something in the back of my mind told me not to.

A bright light clicked on in my mind.

Suddenly a flood of memories started to return, like a movie playing at high speed. The memories seemed much jumbled up and I wasn’t sure if they are in chronological order, but any memories were better than none at that stage!

His name was Dave Lizewski... He saved my life -  _he did_? He had a part in my Daddy dying -  _bastard_. He killed Frank D'Amico with a bazooka -  _a fucking bazooka_! He saved my life twice -  _twice_? I smirked as I remembered that I had also saved his incompetent, sorry ass, twice too. So, at least we are even; I couldn't bear owing my life to anybody!

Green guy was saying something to me.

"Hi, Mindy. How are you feeling?"

 _He knew my name!_ More memories returned. I trusted him, not completely, but enough to let him into my secret life... Who else did I have at this point?

"Like a fucking bazooka went off in my head, dumb-ass. Where the fuck did you get a bazooka, anyway?"

"Good to hear ' _Hit Girl_ ' is okay!"

I glared at him and he visibly shrank back from me. I smirked and it felt good to see that I was still in charge... And that he knew it. I walked over to him and told him to sit the hell back down; he was too tall and it would hurt my neck to look up at him. So I'm short - get over it!

"Okay, Kick-Ass, I need answers."

"I can believe that; you did get banged around a bit... Go ahead, Mindy."

"How did I get to my bed? Did you undress me?" Dave looked a bit worried. I didn't care; I wanted - no - I needed answers, to make sense of what was going through my mind. Anyway I loved fuckin' with people!

"You collapsed on the roof, after we got back from D'Amico's. You really worried me. I carried you down, placed you on your bed. Removed some of your costume... Only enough to make you comfortable," Dave said quickly. "I was not going to undress a ten year-old girl completely. You've been asleep for almost twenty-four hours."

"I am  _not_  fucking ten, asshole," I yelled making Dave jump. Then in a quieter tone. "For your information I am eleven. Got it! What did you let me sleep so damn long for? No wonder I feel like shit." I smirked again. "You  _look_  like shit though, Dave."

"Thanks, I feel like shit."

"I am going for a shower and then, I think, you should too, Dave."

A thought came to me.

"You can use some of my," I faltered for a second. "Daddy's clothes. In there."

I pointed to Daddy's room before going into the bathroom. After closing the door I turned the shower on and I struggled out of my costume and Kevlar vest. Thanks to my back and chest it was damn painful and I whimpered again... Loudly! Hope that asshole didn't hear that...  _T_ _en - that still rankled_ ; I had a bad-ass reputation to uphold, after all!


	4. Letter From Daddy

I thought I heard a whimper from the bathroom.

That was another surprise! First time I had ever heard Mindy  _or_  Hit Girl whimper/complain about anything; I always thought that she was too hard and cold for that! I smiled. Although in retrospect Hit Girl did complain about me and often, as it was usually me doing the whimpering!

Maybe the girl did have a human side! Now I knew that she was only eleven years old, it occurred to me that the human body could only take so much physical and mental punishment and Mindy, as Hit Girl, had managed: to get shot multiple times, fall from a window, see her father die after she had killed around a dozen men, kill another dozen men running a gauntlet and then get pounded to within an inch of her life by a grown man - all in the course of one night! I would not expect even a Marine to be capable of all of that! She was a bad-ass, no doubt about that - and at only eleven years-old! An involuntary shudder shot through me at the thought of what she was capable of when  _not_  at one hundred percent efficiency... Like during that night.

I thought back to the roof. Hit Girl had told me her secret identity: Mindy Macready. Another, disturbing, thought suddenly came to me; did that place me at risk? No, I didn't think so; she would have killed me by now, if she was going to and there was no way I could have prevented that. She must trust me; at least a bit! Who else did she have? She had told me her mother was dead and now her father was too. She had only had me to turn to for help assaulting D'Amico. She must have been desperate if I was the best she had!

I trusted her... I thought... Well, at least as far as you could trust a bad-ass assassin like Hit Girl!

..._...

After we had watched the sunrise over Manhattan, Mindy had turned away and said she was hungry and started to walk to the stairs. Then, on hearing a noise behind me, I had turned and found that Mindy was lying on the roof, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling slowly; she had collapsed.

Initially I had started to panic, but after a minute I had calmed down and then I realised that she must have fainted. I couldn't just leave her there, so I picked Mindy up, just like I had at D'Amico's, and carried her down to the Safehouse. I had placed Mindy on her bed, removed the jet-pack harness and her utility belt, unzipped her top, and removed her gloves, cape, boots and socks. I had then closed the curtains and the bedroom door, then I had sat down at one of the desks and the next thing that I knew, I had woken up to Mindy coming out of her bedroom hours later.

I couldn't believe that it was the  _next_  morning. I'd never slept that long in all my life. My back was sore from sleeping in such a bad position for so long, not to mention all of the bruises from the warehouse and elsewhere. Thank God for my warped pain threshold! I really must have been tired!

..._...

I picked up some sweat pants and a top from Big Daddy's room, half expecting Big Daddy to walk in and kill me on the spot. Just the thought of that man sent giant shudders through me. Big Daddy seemed the type of guy that would come back and haunt anybody that got anywhere near his daughter - then again his daughter was quite capable of looking after herself, thanks to him!

I heard the bathroom door open and Mindy appeared dressed in what seemed to be normal ‘girl’ clothes: a mixture of purple and pink - no surprise there! The pig tails were still there, though; she must have liked them. She looked quite cute; definitely not what I would normally expect a bad-ass assassin to look like!

"Your turn, ass."

It was hard to tell when she was fuckin' with me and when she might actually hurt me.

* * *

 

I went straight to the kitchen and heard Dave close the bathroom door, as I grabbed an energy bar from a kitchen cupboard and ripped it open ravenously. I realised that I hadn't eaten in almost thirty hours. Damn that was good! I grabbed another and I felt a lot better after that hot shower. It had given me the opportunity to explore my body and find all of the bruises; I lost count after thirty and gave up! The hot water eased my muscles, though. My chest and back were about the same colour as my costume; but for some reason I seemed to think that that was cool!

A memory entered my mind. A memory long pushed way back, hopefully never to be required. I went to my bedroom and pulled a small, creased envelope from the drawer beside my bed. The envelope was white and sealed, with only my name, ‘Mindy’, written on the front in my Daddy's handwriting. I felt tears coming to my eyes, but I willed them back. On ripping open the envelope, I found a small, white sheet of plain paper with my Daddy's handwriting.

The urge to cry was stronger, but now was not the time.

My Daddy had given me that envelope three years ago. It had replaced a previous one and I was forbidden from opening the envelope, unless something happened to my Daddy. The letter had a phone number and a man's name. The letter also told me to promise that I would follow this man's instructions and that I would let him look after me.

* * *

 

I must have zoned out as the next thing I knew, Dave was standing beside me trying to get my attention. I stuffed the letter and envelope into the pocket of my jeans, aware that my eyes were moist.

"Mindy."

"Mindy."

"Mindy!"

"Hey, ass! Didn't see you there." I smirked to cover up my discomfort; I was not going to allow Dave to see me cry - ever.

"Thanks for letting me use the shower and borrowing some clothes. I couldn't exactly go home as Kick-Ass!"

"A bruised and battered Kick-Ass, you mean! Dave, there's coffee in the kitchen cupboard if you want any..."

There was a loud banging on the Safehouse door.


	5. Marcus

Dave froze, with a panicked expression on his face.

I ignored him completely.

My deeply ingrained training had taken over; I left the bedroom and grabbed an automatic pistol from the wall, inserted a loaded magazine and pulled back the slide.

I moved towards the door.

The banging on the door stopped. A voice.

"Mindy! Mindy! Are you in there?" A short pause. "It's Marcus, Mindy!"

I let out a semi-relieved groan and lowered the pistol, then I cleared it and placed it back on the wall. Marcus? What the hell was he doing here at the Safehouse? How the hell did he know that I was here? Then I remembered my Daddy's note, the note to be opened if anything happened to him. The note had told me to contact Marcus and let him look after me. I opened the door, slowly. Marcus came in and closed the door behind him. He turned to me with a very relieved look on his face.

"Thank God you are safe... I saw the video... Damon... I'm so sorry." He hugged me tightly. I grimaced and whimpered.  _What was this fucking whimpering! Was I going insane!_

Marcus immediately jumped back, letting go of me with a panicked and concerned look on his face.

"Are you hurt, Mindy?"

I smiled weakly.

"A little bruised. Nothing that I can't handle!" A little Hit Girl bravado always helps.

Marcus noticed Dave standing in my bedroom door.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing here with Mindy?"

"Marcus calm the fuck down. This is Dave. He - ," I hesitated. "Dave is Kick-Ass."

Marcus started to reach for his gun. What the hell did Marcus think he was doing?

"No, Marcus!" I yelled. " _Dave saved my life_. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't  _be_  here. Frank D'Amico would have  _killed_  me."

It had occurred to me that saying Dave saved me  _twice in one night_  might have been too much, too soon. Besides Hit Girl was not supposed to need saving! Marcus let his hand drop away from his gun. Dave had fallen back into the bedroom in panic and was just picking himself up. Seriously, I was starting to think that this could not have been the Dave that saved my life!

I turned and looked directly at Dave.

"It's okay, Dave. Marcus is a cop. He was my Daddy's partner."

Dave didn’t look convinced.

"He _won't_ hurt you." I added, looking pointedly at Marcus.

"Okay, I won't hurt him! I came here to take you home... Away from all  _this_." Marcus waved his hand at the weapons lining the walls.

Marcus was clearly not a fan of what my Daddy did.

"Okay, Marcus. Can you give me time to pack? A couple of hours, maybe? Come back this afternoon to pick me up."

Marcus debated this for a minute.

"Okay. No ' _Hit Girl_ ' stuff, Mindy," Marcus warned.

"Of course not, Marcus," I said with my sweetest, little girl, smile.

Marcus did not seem convinced.

"Riiiight! I will pick you up at three. Bye."

Once Marcus had left and the door was shut, I started to pack.

"I saw the note. Is he now your guardian?" Dave asked.

I was annoyed that Dave had seen the note.

I snapped back, "Yes! Now help me pack."


	6. Chapter 6

I had packed up all of my clothes and other personal items.

I didn't seem to have much in the way of personal items; never really noticed that before. Daddy always insisted that we should travel light, if necessary. I wanted to take my weapons; they were a part of me. I had packed my Hit Girl costume, of course. Not sure if I would ever get to use it again though. I couldn't take any guns, at least not yet. I would need to figure something out later for them. A few knives should be okay, though; easily concealable.

Dave looked at me strangely as I took a knife or two off the wall. Okay, two had actually turned into several!

"What! I have a weakness for blades. What can a Hit Girl say?" I stated as I smirked at Dave.

“' _Just blades_ '?" Dave said very sarcastically as he waved his hand at the several dozen guns lining the room.

I glared at Dave, but he did not recoil so badly this time. The fucker smiled at me. Damn! I wanted to punch him for smiling at me, but I had a conflicting feeling that told me not to, again!

"Just what I need," I thought sarcastically. Dave got a pass... Again!

* * *

 

I checked the time.

It was just before noon and I was feeling very hungry.

"Want some lunch, Dave?"

"Err, okay."

Five minutes later we were walking down the street. We stopped at a small place that sold burgers. I bought us both a cheeseburger and Coke each. The burgers did not look at all appetising, but food was food and I needed food right now. Also Daddy did not exactly pick this part of town for its cuisine, just its anonymity. Once we had finished eating we walked back towards the Safehouse.

I had started to realise that I felt comfortable with Dave; maybe I was right: he did have potential! When I needed him he had come through for me, despite his  _obvious_  failings. There was definitely more to Dave than you would think from just looking at him. I was deep in thought about this potential issue when I heard Dave moan...

"Oh, shit, not again."

I looked up to see a white man, of medium build, holding a seven-inch kitchen knife in his right hand and the man was pointing the knife at Dave.

I snapped.

"You fucking asshole," I shouted at the mugger, as I grabbed a Balisong from my jacket pocket, flipped it open and threw myself towards the idiot. I grabbed his collar, pulling him down to my height and placed the point of the Balisong to his throat; a few drops of blood dropped to the side-walk. The mugger froze in shock at both the pain and seeing the little girl suddenly appear in his face, so fast - with a knife!

"You picked a bad, bad, day for this. I am  _so_  not in the mood," I growled.

The mugger dropped the knife. I let go of him and he fled. I flipped the Balisong closed and stuck it back in my pocket. Nobody nearby seemed to have noticed anything.

"That felt  _so_  good! Ow, my back still fucking hurts!"

I looked at Dave. He was breathing heavily and leaning against the wall of a building for support. He looked worried; not sure why. Had he forgotten who he was walking down the street with?

"I hate being mugged," he moaned, then he looked directly at me. "That was kinda cool, though, I think! Thanks! You still scare me you know."

"Good! No problem! I enjoyed it!"

I gave Dave a brief smile followed by a Hit Girl smirk. I was pleased that I still scared him; I had thought that I was losing my touch before! Dave seemed a bit weak on his feet so we took our time returning to the safe house.

I took the time to think over my current position in life. I should have been looking at Dave as an enemy, a traitor at least, like that Red Mist -  _that bastard shot me three times, three fucking times_. But I didn't, I couldn't. I saw him as... What? A friend? A crime-fighting partner? I trusted him, for some reason and I just felt inside that I was making the correct decision. I supposed that I must have trusted him to have revealed my greatest secrets to him. Daddy would be very mad at me for revealing _anything_ to 'Ass-Kick'. I smiled to myself at that name, but still felt a twinge of sadness.

By the time we had got back to the Safehouse it was nearly two. Dave left me at the Safehouse door to go home, as he said that his Dad must have been worried about him by then.

Marcus would be here in an hour anyway.

I finished my packing and looked around the safe house. I felt sad leaving my home.

"I love you, Daddy. I miss you. Sleep Tight," I whispered to myself as tears welled up again.

* * *

 

Marcus is not here yet ... I  _feel_  alone ... I  _am_  alone ...  _No_  ... I am  _not_  alone ...  _I have Dave_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, what were my reasons behind 'Sleep Tight'?  
> After watching the first movie a couple of times it occurred to me that the movie creators had glossed over, possibly for censor reasons, the fact that Hit Girl had been beaten to an inch of her life at the end of the movie.  
> After landing on the roof with Kick-Ass, having escaped from the D'Amico building and ignoring a small amount of blood, Hit Girl behaved as though she had just come back from a Jet-Pack sight-seeing tour of Manhattan with Kick-Ass!  
> Considering that Hit Girl had been through a somewhat difficult few hours you would have expected some more visible injuries and maybe some indication of other hidden injuries.  
> If we consider that Hit Girl:  
> 1 - Was shot three times at close range in the chest. Vests only go so far at absorbing the impact.  
> 2 - Was knocked out of a window and dropped a dozen feet onto her back and presumably knocked out.  
> 3 - Tracked down the site where Big Daddy and Kick-Ass were being tortured. Killed some men. Saw her father being burnt to death. Killed some more men and then had her father die in front of her.  
> 4 - Assaulted a well-defended building killing a large number of armed men with knives and guns.  
> 5 - Had to endure a torrent of weapons fire when armed with nothing but a pair of kitchen knives, including the threat of a bazooka.  
> 6 - Took on a 45-year old man, with martial arts training, single handed who proceeded to beat her down from that start. She was, apparently, too exhausted to notice or avoid the initial kick to the face and then things just went downhill from there. Frank D'Amico had much more strength available than Hit Girl - who despite her mental and physical skills and training still has the, admittedly well honed, but limited body of an eleven year-old girl. Ultimately Hit Girl was thrown down hard enough onto a desk that the desk collapsed. This also being on her back that would already be aggravated from earlier activities and strenuous movements.  
> 7 - Was incapable of movement, before Kick-Ass intervened, and had at one stage passed out after the two vicious punches from Frank D'Amico.  
> 8 - Could only just lift her head enough to see the explosion, after Kick-Ass blew Frank D'Amico out of the window.  
> 9 - Had to literally be scooped off the desk by Kick-Ass and hooked onto the Jet-Pack harness.  
> I am aware that the film creators had enough difficulties portraying an eleven year-old girl being beaten, very badly, by a 45 year-old man and did not want to show a badly injured Hit Girl. I am also aware that in the comic Hit Girl does use a stimulant to increase her capabilities, at least temporarily. Maybe we are expected to assume this occurred in the first film similar to the event in the second film. Maybe it had not worn off yet.


	7. Sadness

As I had expected he would, Marcus arrived promptly at three. He helped me carry my bags down to his car and then I took the chance to have a last, long look at my home. I had no idea if I would ever see the place again. I had a feeling that Marcus would try to keep me as Mindy Macready and stamp-out Hit Girl. After all, the last time he really knew or saw me I was a tiny five year-old girl who knew nothing of Hit Girl's life of revenge, killing and blood.

Standing in my old bedroom, the sadness I had been putting off welled up inside me. The tears started and I could not stop them rolling down my face. I had never felt this helpless before.

I shouted at the walls, "Why? My life was good! Why did my Daddy have to die?"

My hands balled into fists as I shouted, "It's all  _his_  fucking fault!"

I pounded a hole in the wall's soft plaster.

"You  _bastard_  Dave, you killed my Daddy!"

My hands hurt and the pain brought me back to me senses. It was the first time since that night that I had thought to blame Dave for my Daddy being dead. I knew it was  _not_  Dave's fault. He had been taken in by that Red Mist -  _that bastard shot me three times, three fucking times._  I couldn't help feeling emotional every time that I thought of that Red Mist  _and_  that the bastard got the drop on me -  _nobody_  got the drop on Hit Girl,  _nobody_. Every time I got emotional over Daddy, I seemed to blame Dave and I shouldn't. After all, if it wasn't for Dave I would be dead with a bullet through my head or been blown up by a bazooka. However at the back of my mind I could still hear myself saying, ‘ _And if it wasn't for you, my Dad wouldn't be_ ’.

Dave was just too easy to manipulate. Red Mist -  _that bastard shot me three times, three fucking times_  - I really needed to get a hold of myself! He saw that he could manipulate Dave and he did so. Dave never saw it coming. I hoped that Dave didn't feel that he was to blame; I would hate that. I would have to ask him about it sometime, but not for a while. Dave had stuck by me when I needed him most. I would not have blamed him if he had left me alone at the Safehouse and gone home after I had suggested that he help me. He was really scared. If he  _had_ left me - no jet-pack, no Gatling guns, no Mindy Macready - literally.

Would I have assaulted D'Amico without knowing that I had Kick-Ass as backup? I honestly didn't know. I didn't think that I was really thinking clearly, after Daddy had died. At the time I desired revenge. Daddy had taught me not to be afraid to die. Normally, I would have had Big Daddy as my backup. However, this time, I ran out of weapons. In hindsight I made mistakes,  _big_  mistakes. But at the end of it all  _Dave_  saved me from the bazooka.  _Dave_  killed D'Amico and saved my life, _again_.  _Dave_  got me away from the D'Amico building, when I could not even move.  _Dave_  helped me after I collapsed on the roof. It all keeps coming back to one person: Dave. He had had every opportunity to abandon me at different stages, but he didn't. Why? Maybe I would ask him one day. I felt a bond, what sort of bond I didn't know, but a bond wa _s_  growing between us. Not just us shaking hands on the roof; he was a friend. A true friend? A best friend? No, too early to tell yet. My only friend? Yes. Hopefully I could talk to him about those things that we had in common, as I didn't think that I would be able to talk about that night, or anything 'Hit Girl' related with Marcus. That point seemed to have been made quite clear!

After a last look around, I left my home, closed and locked the door, then joined Marcus downstairs, in the car.

"You okay, Mindy? You were up there a long time."

"Yes," I paused. "Yes, Marcus. I am."

I had Dave.

Maybe, my life would be different.


	8. First Night

As we pulled up outside my new home, I was feeling very nervous!

Why, I wasn’t quite sure; after all, I had lived with Marcus for the first five years of my life, but that had been a whole lifetime of experiences ago! I did not know the man, but I could remember him and I felt ashamed that I could not remember everything. Marcus obviously cared about me; that had been obvious, but it just all felt so strange.

Less than two days ago, I still had my Daddy. Now, though, my family consisted of Marcus and me: that was my ‘Mindy Macready’ family. There was also my ‘Hit Girl’ family, which consisted of me and Kick-Ass, or rather it had; I had a distinct feeling that Dave was out of the superhero business for good! On that subject: was _I_ still in the superhero business? Would Hit Girl appear on the streets of New York again? Ever? Time would tell, but for now I had to keep the world of Hit Girl hidden from Marcus; he had made it very clear that he wanted no part of it!

+...+...+

Marcus showed me into the house. I had to admit; I was surprised it was the same house, that I had lived in all those years ago. I could remember certain things; I was getting flashbacks: the kitchen was through there; my bedroom had been the first on the right at the top of the stairs and was opposite the bathroom.

We had barely talked on the drive over and we were not really talking now. I suspected that Marcus was giving me my space and trying to be diplomatic. He showed me to the exact same bedroom. It was painted pink and had a single bed to the right; the bed had pink and purple bedclothes – was this where I had gained the taste for purple?

“It hasn’t been decorated since you left, but I did get you some new bedding and I knew that you loved pink and purple; you always did.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” I replied with a forced smile and sat on the bed, putting my bag down on the floor.

“I’ll get the rest of your stuff,” Marcus said, sounding a bit uncomfortable.

* * *

 

**_The following morning  
Marcus’s house_ **

I awoke soon after dawn.

It had _not_ been a good night! It had all been very strange for me. A different house, a different bedroom, a different bed. I had been kept awake for a large portion of the night, what with the different noises and surroundings. I had actually felt scared at one point! That had _really_ shocked me; _I_ was not scared of anything, let alone noises and the dark! Nevertheless, I had actually spent at least an hour under my duvet, crying! I had felt truly alone; my Daddy was dead and a man that I barely knew was the only person that I had left.

I had considered calling Dave, but had not done so, as I saw doing that as a weakness. It was really hitting me now; I missed Daddy and I missed my organised life. Everything about life with Daddy had been regimented and organised. Now, though, I was on my own, without a plan for the following day, or any day for that matter! Normally every day was full of training, or similar, but now my main reason for being, Frank D’Amico, was gone – blown apart by a fucking bazooka, of all things!

+...+...+

What would the future old for me? Marcus would want me to go to school, like any other normal kid. Except that, I was not a normal kid, I killed people, as normal people might kill a cockroach! However, with less emotion and no conscience. I had no idea _how_ to be a normal girl; I knew nothing about dolls and makeup, or any of the other shit that I assumed _normal_ girls my age did! I was damned certain that normal parents did not take their young ten-year-old daughters to abandoned gas works and then proceed to shoot them in the chest with a Glock 17 pistol, even with low velocity rounds!

I could not talk to Marcus about any of this. The only person that I had left that I _could_ talk to was Dave and I could not exactly start talking to him about ‘girly stuff’, as I assumed that he wouldn’t have a fucking clue!

I had asked Daddy about ‘girly stuff’ before and he usually quickly changed the subject. I had even asked him when I would start to become a woman; get breasts and stuff. Yeah, at that point it had all still been ‘stuff’! Daddy had been rather embarrassed and the next day he had dropped a couple of books onto my bed that seemed to about young girls and puberty! I had to admit that I found the books a little distressing and I wished that I had had somebody that I could talk to about what was happening, or about to happen to me. In the end, I had resorted to the internet for answers, but that had just made things worse!

Okay, I had seen some _really_ warped things and done some rather vile things, as Hit Girl, but wow, the internet could be really scary! Was that what real life was really like? If so, it made my life look rather normal in comparison!

Maybe when I started school, I would make friends with normal girls, of my own age and ask them these questions. Friends: now that was another new thing for me. I had never had friends, although Dave would probably count as one! Was that strange; a girl who was almost twelve years-old, having a sixteen year-old friend? Then I had another thought: boys! I would meet boys – I had never actually interacted with boys before, what would they be like?

I had one hell of a learning curve ahead of me, but I supposed that I could just treat it like preparing for an operation. Researching and planning for everything and anything, that was what Daddy had taught me.

So, the first night had not gone well, but maybe the next would be better.


	9. First Week

**_Later that same morning_ **

“Sleep well?” Marcus asked.

“I think so, thanks for askin’,” I replied, trying to be polite.

Marcus smiled, maybe a little surprised at my politeness.

“I think we need to take you down to the Mall, get you some new clothes and stuff for school.”

There was that word: ‘school’!

Not having anything better to suggest, I agreed.

* * *

 

**_That afternoon_ **

That could have gone worse!

I had had absolutely no idea what to buy. What would be right for school? How, the hell was I meant to know? I ended up getting things that I deemed as being functional: a bag, some decent shoes and warm clothes; it was September!

Marcus gathered up things like pens, pencils, notebooks and other shit like that. I also encountered that other creature; that creature called a boy! I think he must have been my own age, but he was a complete idiot. Not to mention that he seemed to think that he was God’s gift to girls and thankfully, he gave up on his doomed attempt at dragging me into conversation and went to talk to another girl before I punched him. He, apparently, was not used to rejection; I supposed that they would think I was a fucking dyke now!

Marcus took us to a pizza place for lunch, which I enjoyed. Daddy never took me to places like that much, apart from the odd trip to a bowling alley, or similar, when I was able to blackmail him. Marcus was doing his utmost to be agreeable, within reason and never said a word about my Daddy or anything that may have occurred over the past few days. He also never mentioned Dave, not once!

+...+...+

I was unsure about bringing anything up about Daddy, or Dave, or Hit Girl, or one of a hundred things that I wanted or needed to talk about with him. We spent a lot of the time just making weak conversation. I knew that I would need to stay with Marcus; I was far too young to be able to pull off living on my own.

Money was not a problem, of course. However, that money had to be made to last – I had no idea when I would be able to get more. The other issue was Hit Girl. The longer I spent as Mindy Macready, the rustier my skills would get. I had spent almost six years learning my skills and I was damned if I was about to throw that all away.

I was not naive enough to expect Marcus to allow me to bring weapons into his house, or to let me wear my costume. I decided that he could not really complain about me using weights, or maintaining my martial arts skills – there was nothing remotely illegal about any of that!

+...+...+

“Do you have to do that?”

“Yes, Marcus, I do.”

Marcus had come upstairs and seen me practicing some movements in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom.

“I need to keep fit.”

“Intending on _hit_ ting the streets, Mindy?” he asked pointedly.

“No – I am not intending to _hit_ the streets!” I responded – doing my best to keep a ‘civil tongue’ in my head.

“So why do you need to keep fit? For the boys at school?” Marcus asked with a smile.

I glared at Marcus and I thought he took the hint, as he turned and went back downstairs.

* * *

 

**_A few days later_ **

I had found out some more things about Marcus.

He did not like being sworn at.

He did not like receiving calls from the school Principal.

He had a nasty sense of humour.

In return for what Marcus called ‘ _my reprehensible behaviour_ ’, I had managed to acquire some unwelcome additions, too.

I had a swear jar – which was already half-full.

I had a curfew – which sucked.

I was grounded – which sucked even more.

I was suspended from school for three days – no comment on that.

Not bad for my first few days!

+...+...+

Now you might ask what brought along this change.

In chronological order:

I hit a boy – broke his nose. He deserved it – _nobody_ laid a goddamn finger on me _or_ hinted that I preferred girls! Okay, maybe I over reacted, but I thought I handled it rather well, actually.

That incident had led to the phone call from the Principal. Marcus had then smoothed things over a bit and he had ignored me for the entire drive home. It had actually helped that the boy had been thirteen and the fact that I was only eleven meant it had not been treated as bullying – or a criminal matter.

Once we were back home, Marcus had sat me down, and then he sat down across from me.

“Mindy, you have gone too far! You could have seriously hurt that boy. You need to learn to control that – that other side of you. Okay, you now have a curfew – you will not be out of this house after six in the evening. You are also grounded for the next two weeks – except for school.”

I snapped!

“Bugger that!” I said, jumping up. “You know what I think about your fucking curfew and your goddamned grounding –?”

“Mindy!” Marcus warned.

“– You can stick them up your fucking ass! That cock-sucking cunt deserved to have his nose broken...”

I ranted on for a while, before calming myself down. Marcus was not exactly impressed with my grasp of the seedier side of the English language. Marcus had then pointed to the swear jar – the sight of which had just made me madder – I had ranted on for a while longer before I stuffed some notes in it and in the end, I had stormed off upstairs and slammed my bedroom door.

I had stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and then refused to go downstairs for dinner.

+...+...+

Way to go, Mindy!

I was annoyed with Marcus, but above all, I was annoyed at myself for losing control, both at school and there at home. I was better than that – I had let myself down; I had let Daddy down.

I now had some major fences to rebuild with Marcus.

* * *

 

**_The next morning_ **

I actually felt embarrassed as I got myself dressed and then headed downstairs for breakfast.

Marcus was in the kitchen. He placed a plate of pancakes in front of me as I sat down. He also smiled. I felt ashamed now. Marcus was being kind and seemed to want to make this work. It was me that was fucking it all up!

“Marcus – I – I am sorry for my behaviour yesterday. I should not have hit that boy and I should not have lost my temper with you.”

Marcus continued smiling.

“Thank you, Mindy. That was very grown up of you. I understand that you have had to put up with some major changes to your life, over the past week. I know it won’t be easy for you – or for me!”

I smiled at Marcus.

“Now eat your pancakes – I’m off to work. Stay – in – the – house!”

“Yes, Marcus,” I replied, in my sweetest voice and with my sweetest smile.

I didn’t think Marcus bought it, but he didn’t say another word and left for work.


End file.
